These Things I Sometimes Do For Other People
by Empire of Dust
Summary: SLF fic requests for various people on the ME community on LJ. Has a variety of characters and pairings, most of which would be considered "unconventional".
1. Making Mistakes

Usually, Kaidan only looked and did not buy because the merchandise was out of his price range. But he was lieutenant-commander now. He was higher up on the pay roll. Some things were not as much as a hole in his pocket anymore.

But everything he saw just reminded him of Shepard, of things they would like or find amusing. And whethe"r or not he could afford it did not factor into his purchases as much as "will this make me think of them", or "does that have the potential to remind me of then?"

With a sour taste in his mouth, Kaidan left the Presidium, digging his hands into his pockets. He needed a drink. A hard, stiff drink. And the Dark Star could at least promise him that much.

It was loud and stuffy and perhaps a bit too much for Kaidan, yet his feet followed one after the other until he found himself sitting in a bar stool, sandwiched on either side by people occupied with their own drinks. An asari regarded him quickly, wiping the island down as she did so.

"What'll it be, big guy?"

"Serrice Ice Brandy. Please." A dubious look flashed across her unattractive face (such a rare occurrence—an ugly asari), then she shrugged.

"Coming right up." She said, disappearing behind the island. Kaidan recalled the turian bartender that once stood her in place, and assumed that it is perhaps his day off. Within moments, a glass of brandy stared him in the face, and he idly wondered if he was too rash in his decision of drink. He took a sip anyway, the liquid like acid in his throat.

"Shit," a familiar voice piped beside. "I know you. You're the dick from Horizon." A heavily tattooed bald woman sat beside him, her eyes obstructed with frameless, gaudy shades. It occurred to Kaidan that he knew this woman, just not her name. And he began to think that he didn't want to.

"Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" she said. "Shepard's been in a bitch ever since they've spoke to you." She swallowed the rest of her drink. The woman muttered something under her breath, but he didn't quite catch what it was.

"How do you think I felt, learning that my former comrade is now working for a terrorist group?" he shot back.

She ignored his rebuttal.

"What's your deal with Shepard?"

"We... have history, you could say." he relented.

Apparently the woman was not pleased with Kaidan's answer, for her lip curled up in an imitation of some feral snarl. "No, I mean what the fuck is your deal? That little show with the biotics?"

He recalled the faint corona that buzzed around his skin, and made his hair stand on end at the nape of his neck; the anger that bubbled in the pit of his stomach and curdled the contents. Kaidan sighed, started to rub at his temples.

"Look," he began. "I don't know what to tell you. I let my emotions and past with Shepard get the better of me—"

"If I were you, I would have pulverized them. I could tell you wanted to."

He had to be honest. "I didn't approve of Shepard's actions, no," he replied, "but what would have biotic slamming them prove?"

She laughed, a sharp, cruel bark. "Pussy," she muttered under her breath. Kaidan pretended her didn't hear that. "I would have made you feel better." she added as an after thought, arms crossed on the island. The name of the woman came back to Kaidan, then, and she became less of an enigma. Jack. That was her name. Somehow it felt better knowing it.

He said nothing in return.

"Fuck, why didn't you?" Her voice was hard to make out over the loud music that pulsed through his veins.

From the corner of his eye, Kaidan regarded the woman.

"For a moment, perhaps, but I think exercising control over my biotics is a more responsible course of action". Kaidan drained his drink, his throat burning in the aftermath. Jack was silent for a moment, seizing him up and Kaidan couldn't help but shudder under her scrutiny.

"See, that's your damn problem." Jack observed the throng of people out on the dance floor, to the left of them. Ever so often, one or two of her fingers would twitch against her arms. "You need to stop being such a fucking tight ass and let lose."

"Biotics are not a toy, Jack, they're a—"

"Responsibility," she interjected, mocking him. "If I were you back on Horizon, I would have given Shepard a piece of my mind."

"Violence wouldn't have proven anything, just that I have poor control over I power I have the obligation of keeping in check." he said. "If I don't control my biotics, who will? Simply charging everything that pisses you off only lets a potential aid rule you."

"Shit," Jack gave him a pitying look, as if he truly didn't understand the concept of something rudimentary. "I never knew you were such a sap." She shrugged, making a face.

"Really, who cares? Biotics are just something to use—"

"You're missing the point." he said calmly. For once, Jack quieted. "What I mean to say is that the more you let your biotics become a way to vent your frustrations, the more you risk letting them flare out. After a point, they become unreliable."

Jack snorted in derision. "Okay smartass, how would you know?" She twisted in her stool so she faced him, but her arms were still held tight across her chest.

"I killed a man once. A turian named Vyrnnus." his voice became bitter, ugly memories leaping to the forefront of his mind, thoughts he'd much rather lay to rest than resuscitate.

"He, uh, he—" Kaidan pinched his brow. "I knew someone. A girl back at BAaT. Vyrnnus broke her arm when she didn't use her biotics to get a glass of 's wide-eyed expression of horror bore into his mind, and it tore away at him every time he was reminded of it. It chipped away at his, like he was a piece of crumbling marble being chiseled down to dust.

"So the turian bastard deserved it."

"No, he didn't." Kaidan's voice became muffled by the palms of his hands as he dragged them over his face. "I lashed out in anger and snapped his neck with a biotic kick. There were other ways to resolve that conflict, but fury clouded my judgment and biotics were the first thing I used."

"It's not like he didn't fucking deserve it." Jack repeated.

"Fine. Vyrnnus was a bit of a dick—"

"A bit?" She cocked an eyebrow, her tone questioning.

Kaidan sighed heavily. "Vyrnnus was a dick, but he didn't deserve to be killed." He said, gesturing with his hands. Jack's face grew dark, and was rendered even more unreadable than it all ready was with her sunglasses.

"Some people do, you know." She said in a low voice that sent chills down his spine. It was a lost cause, truly, trying to convince this woman. And Kaidan had neither the energy nor the desire to sit there all night discussing the matter in some vain attempt to do so.

"All right," he conceded. "we, uh, both have our opinions."

"Mine makes more damn sense than yours." Jack sneered. Her comment made Kaidan chuckle, something he hadn't done in what seemed to have been forever.

"How is that?"

"If you didn't kill him, he would have killed you." Kaidan waited for any sign of her joking, but she remained deadly serious. He looked away, focused on the dirty granite of the island they sat at.

"I'm sorry you think that way." He said, rubbing at his neck.

Jack leaped off her bar stool. "Fuck, I don't need your pity."

"I, uh, didn't mean to offend." he offered feebly, watching as she threw a couple of credit chits down. She didn't look at him, not once.

"Whatever." Jack shrugged, hands stuffed into the pockets of her leather jacket. She stared off into the distance, her jaw clenching. Then she turned to leave.

"Take care." Kaidan called after her. She stopped in a middle of a crowd, and he could barely make her out through all of the tangled limbs.

"Hey," she said. "you too."

Kaidan convinced himself he saw her take her shades off, if only for a moment.


	2. These Moments Shall Be Ours

Miranda was gorgeous and remote, some beautiful idol best observed from afar. She was a strange woman in the sense that she frowned upon fraternization, but never shied away from talking with Shepard or Jacob. Her double standards bugged quite a few people upon the Normandy, and they lamented about why they simply could not have someone like Garrus as their second-in-command. Now there was a man anyone could talk to, someone anyone could easily like—_adore_. The Ice Queen was too detached, too distant for their liking.

But that was not the case at all. They just didn't get it.

She was … _selective_ with whom she spent her time with. To her, every second counted and she'd be damned if she spent it with someone she thought vapid. Or so Joker was under the impression.

This was why he thought he had quite the secret, hidden discreetly during the night cycle of the _Normandy_. It had become almost a ritual of sorts: Joker would let EDI pilot the _Normandy_ as he headed off to catch some rest, and as he passed through the Mess Hall he'd find her sitting there. Always in the upper left, right beside the Med-Bay window where the dim light framed her.

During those fleeting moments, Miranda always seemed so deep and lost in thought that Joker felt guilty for disturbing her, even if he was only walking past. But the faintest of smiles would grace her face and tease him, drag him under her spell when she caught him in the corner of her eye. It was hard to ignore such a woman; it was as if her very presence demanded attention.

"Operative Lawson," he would say, nodding his head slightly.

"Moreau," she would offer back.

Their nightly exchange went on for almost a week. And then one evening she spoke more than just his name in passing.

"I would like to apologize." She said stiffly, so unused to such an act. "For what I said to you when the crew was abducted."

Joker stopped, turned on his heel as best as he could. (His knee had been bothering him lately, ever since he hit it off the arm of his pilot's chair a couple nights ago.)

Miranda's eyes remained trained on the plain white table, her hands a delicate steeple. "I am sure I couldn't have done any better. You did what you could and that is all we can ask of you." She muttered into the darkness.

And he stared.

Surely this was a dream and he was lying about the cockpit, rendered unconscious. Joker cleared his throat, unsure of what to say in return, or even if he should say anything in kind. He didn't know. Maybe these things were best left as they were.

Yet his mouth formed words even if his mind told it not to.

"Unlike me, you don't have Vrolik Syndrome to stop you." he replied, rubbing at the back of his sore neck. "You could do more than just break your arm at them. Hell, maybe you could even hold an assault rifle without breaking a rib or two while you're at it."

The woman snorted in derision, and she shook her head.

"Considering the circumstances, saving the crew while the Normandy was going under was not as viable as I was wont to believe. So for that, you have my apologies." She said, her head titled to the left ever so slightly. Her pale blue eyes seized him up, leaving Joker feeling bare.

A full thirty seconds passed before Joker spoke again. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the thought of Miranda apologizing.

"Right. Thank you." Idly, he drummed his fingers on the table, eyes thrown skyward. Looking Miranda in the eye made him feel uncomfortable, for reasons unknown.

He turned around again, only to stop himself. A nagging question ate away at his mind, and he knew he'd have to ask it now or never.

"Unless this is against some sort of regs I don't know about, could I ask you a question?"

"Certainly." Miranda said, looking at him expectantly. "What can I do for you, Moreau?"

"What are you doing? I mean, you're just… sitting there. In the dark. Doing nothing. No offense, but it's sorta kinda creepy." He didn't know many people who sat around in dimly lit places—well, at least ones who weren't borderline psychopaths and preferred to sleep on a cot in the bottom of a ship.

For a moment, Miranda hesitated. In the poor lighting, Joker could have sworn he saw her face flush. She cleared her throat, refusing to meet his eyes then.

"I suppose that is a valid question," She said, voice even.

"You've got an office, right?" He pressed.

"Yes."

"Then why-?" Joker stopped himself mid-sentence. "I don't know, call me crazy, but if I had an office I think I'd be sitting there, not out here and in the dark. But that's just my opinion, don't go spreading it around."

The statement gave Miranda pause, but it did not stop the coy smile that grew on her face.

"We wouldn't be having this conversation right now, would we?" One of her eyebrows rose in question.

"I'll give you that much."

Then Joker bade her goodnight, and headed for the cyro sleeping pods, exhaustion lapping at the edges of his consciousness. Miranda's accented voice followed after him.

"See you tomorrow, Moreau?"

A smile of Joker's own tugged at his lips.

"See you tomorrow, Operative Lawson." He called back.


	3. Awkward Conversation

"Humans copulate for _amusement_?" The look on Mordin's face was one of bewilderment as Shepard regaled him with such information. The very thought of simply… copulating for the hell of it did not sit well with the salarian scientist. And for one brief moment, he stopped working as his mind registered the newly learned factoid.

"Yes. Like dolphins." Shepard replied amiably, sitting on the edge of his cluttered table, which was covered in various vials and things she didn't quite know what to call. His eyes kept on darting to her, nervously, as if he feared she'd knock something over. And Shepard had half a mind to do so if only to see his reaction.

With a shake of his head, perhaps clearing it of unnecessary thoughts, he returned to work.

"Interesting." Mordin's hands were but a blur, and they never stopped moving, never stopped working. Before him sat his orange-screen laptop (the screen filled with pictures, diagrams, tiny font), scientific instruments that sent shivers down Shepard's spine, and an assortment of vials, tubes, and containers. "Want to know: do most humans equate themselves to aquatic life forms?" Shepard could have sworn she saw the smallest hint of a smirk quirk his mouth then.

"What? No!" She pushed herself off of the table, and turned toward him, arms crossed against her chest.

"Dolphins have sex for fun, too. I thought you were supposed to be smart or something." Shepard said with a slight huff.

"Horrible human stereotype." Mordin said with a gasp, his eyes bunched up. "Offensive."

Shepard waved her hand in the air dismissively, ignoring his indignation. "Okay, so let me get this straight." She struggled to find a polite word, a substitution. "You only… mate for children, and not recreation?" Her hands gestured in the air feebly, eyes thrown skyward as if the ceiling held the answers.

Then Mordin sighed with exasperation as he poured one vial into another. In the harsh lighting of his laboratory, the colours seemed almost neon.

"Humans base sexual encounters on emotions, hormones—or, as you would say, 'love'—salarians experience things more quickly. Lasts much less. Use of contracts for marriage."

The vial he held in his hand simmered slightly, a faint cloud of smoke emanating from it. A scowl contorted his face, and his long mouth transformed into a frown as he watched it froth and foam. "Not good; result not typical. Was not supposed to smoke. Or foam." He said to himself.

"That doesn't really answer my question, you know." She said with a wolfish grin. Shepard dared to inch closer to him. Broken from his concentration, Mordin regarded her quickly from the corner of his eye, took a deep breath as he reluctantly placed his attention elsewhere.

"Have told you many times. Salarians do not experience things like other species do. Normal human ignorance; reluctance to acknowledge not everyone is the same." Annoyance leached into his tones, and he began talking to Shepard like she was some nosy child who had way too much time on their hands.

"But…" Shepard trailed off, stepping back. Now it was her turn to be offended, however slightly.

"Consider main objective of sentient life forms: preservation of the population achieved through intercourse." Mordin continued. "Salarians see no need for impracticalities like feelings. Only gets in the way." He said with a shake of his head.

"So you've never really considered—"

"Let me ask you a question." Mordin said suddenly, cutting her off. He took the contents of the vial he held in his hands, and discarded them in a container emblazoned with a universal hazardous symbol.

"Of course." She pressed her palms against the cold steel of his work table, and leaned against it.

"Curious. Insistence on discussing salarian mating rituals… " he inhaled sharply. "Another question. Do humans inquire about reproduction of other species often? Humans know for bluntness; tactless questions made with little thought. Would not be surprised."

The question caught her off guard. Shepard was at a loss for words, and silence grew between them as she contemplated all that she could say in return. He blinked his eyes several times, waiting for her answer.

"Is it a crime to stop by and talk?" She said finally. His eyes grew suspicious, and he considered her reply for a moment. Shepard could imagine the way his mind must have dissected it, mulling over all of the implications and insinuation it did or did not hold. Mordin looked away and returned to the mess in front of him.

"Please, Shepard." He said. "Have work to do. No time for idle chatter. Concentration of utmost importance, unless you want Collectors to win."

Shepard cleared her throat. "Right. I'll, uh, leave you to it then." She said with a faint nod of her head, though Mordin never looked up from his work station.

"Most appreciated. Will talk later." He called after her as the door to his lab closed shut.

An odd little smile tugged at Shepard's mouth as her mind raced with all of the questions she could ask him.


	4. A Path Better Left Untraveled

Alex Shepard thought he was over her. He thought that what they had was no more, gone between the two stale years that he was dead. But his lips found hers and kissed her with a hunger he felt deep within the pit of his stomach. And she kissed him back. And she did not stop him, her mouth hot and insistent against his.

Liara's hands worked at his belt awkwardly, and with far less expertise and finesse than Miranda had mustered. A voice in the back of his mind spoke reason, suggested that his course of infidelity was a path better left untraveled.

But her fingers burned into his skin, traced his scars, made his body ache. How could he say no? How could he say no when he was putty in her hands?

Alex watched her form disappear behind the elevator doors, an unreadable expression on her face. Liara's departure left him a sinking feeling in his chest, some gaping hole where his heart should have been. The taste in his mouth was sour, bitter, and he felt so horribly wrong.

Truth be told, he hated seeing her go. Alex would have done anything to have her stay; the moments they shared were far too fleeting for his liking.

Yet he couldn't help the crushing sense of deceit, that collapsed feeling under his skin that perhaps his decisions were not the best, or even made in the right frame of mind. It had been so long since he had last seen her—or at least, so long since he had seen her freed from that obsessive desire of revenge, those ugly shackles of retribution that just did not suit her.

It occurs to Alex that he should have told Liara. That he should have been honest and admitted the depth of his relationship with Miranda. It was not fair to her, or Liara, and he wasn't doing either of them a favour by lying.

They were more than "just work friends", and given the questioning look in Liara's eyes, he assumed that she thought so, too. And yet she did not stop him. And yet she let him walk down this unholy path, holding his hand as he did so.

Just what had he done?

Alex rubbed at his eyes, his face. He had to talk to someone, to get this off of his chest.

Within moments he stood in front of the door to the Starboard Observatory room. He palmed the door open, and walked into the spartan space, regarding the quite figure sitting in the center.

"Shepard," Samara said, a faint blue corona surrounding her. "It is a pleasure."

"Could we talk?"

"As you wish." With her hand she gestured for him to take a seat beside her. "Something on your mind?"

"I—Yes. I would like to discuss something with you." Alex stretched one leg out and folded the other against his chest, eyes staring off into space, speckled with faint white dots and far off planets.

"And what would that be?" She asked gently.

"Have you ever done anything in the… heat of the moment?" He regarded the justicar from the corner of his eye, watched her still form as she contemplated his question.

"Many times, in my younger days." A soft chuckled escaped her, a lyrical sound that surprised him.

"I have made a bad decision tonight." He said quietly. Samara remained silent, waiting for him to continue. "And I am not sure what to do." He felt so meek, so helpless, as he sat before this being of seemingly infinite wisdom.

"I noticed Liara and you spent some time in your cabin." For a second, she closed her eyes.

"What does Miranda make of it?"

"She—she doesn't know. Not yet." He replied, cradling his head in his hands. "Tonight, talking with Liara, I realized how I was lying to myself, and to Miranda."

"'The heart wants what the heart wants' is a human saying I have heard many times during my travels." Alex tore his gaze away from the observatory window, and focused on Samara. "I believe it applies to the moments when we realize that love is not a logical thing, or something that we can control." Then he looked away again, a heat rushing up the back of his neck.

"I found comfort in Miranda; she made me feel like a human being during all of stuff I was going through. " He said suddenly.

"I felt like I was being torn into a hundred different directions, and she made it seem like everything was going to be all right. I—I—" he sighed heavily, dragging a hand over the top of his bald head. "I just _needed _someone, and she just happened to be that someone. My heart was never really in it."

"Seeing Liara again dragged up old feelings you thought were gone." Samara suggested.

"And I don't know how to tell her. Miranda, I mean."

"Honesty was never the easy route, however admirable it may be. But I do believe it is the only choice you have left."

Alex nodded, unable to meet her eyes. "She didn't deserve to be treated like this. I owe her at least this much." He managed to say past the lump in his throat.

"Thank you, Samara, for listening." Alex got to his feet.

"Anytime, Shepard. It is the least I can do for all that you have done for me." She said, a ghost of a smile dancing on her regal features. "I know you will do the right thing." All he could offer in return was a shaky smile before he left.

With heavy feet, he walked out of the starboard observatory room, and to his cabin. Alex collapsed into his chair that sat at the desk to the left of his room. And for a while, he sat in the silence, racking his mind for all of the ways he could tell Miranda the truth. His laptop made a sound, startled him out of his thinking. A message started him in the face.

_You seemed rather upset after Liara left your cabin. Anything you want to talk about?_

It was from Miranda.

It took him ten minutes before he could reply to it.


End file.
